King's Intuition
by homesweethomicide13
Summary: Thranduil knew someone needed him. A friend was hurting, and he was doing anything, anything at all, to help them. Thranduil x Celeborn.


**Title:** King's Intuition  
><strong>Author:<strong> Lauri (homesweethomicide13)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Thranduil x Celeborn  
><strong>Warning:<strong> Slash  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Thranduil knew someone needed him. A friend was hurting, and he was doing anything, anything at all, to help them.

**Author's Note:** This is the first time I'm publishing my LOTR work on here. I've tried to keep the characters as canon as possible (considering it's slash), as well as keeping the right kind of language and tone. Enjoy.

**King's Intuition**

He knew. From the moment he entered the House of Elrond – if it could even be called that any longer – he knew that someone here needed him. His wife had called it his 'King's Intuition': an ability to sense he was needed and in what way. Thinking of her, if only for a split second, always brought pain to his heart, and so he quickly shook away the memories. He did not have to grieve for her loss much longer, he knew that. He would sail to Valinor soon, and be reunited with her.

But first, someone needed him.

He passed by the few of Elrond's council who had remained behind in Imladris, and he noted their grave faces – indeed Rivendell seemed somewhat lacking since its Lord had departed, and the warmth was slowly fading from the walls of the House of Elrond, but he saw nothing in their eyes that told him of why he was needed here. He knew many of them were questioning his presence here, since he had not been summoned nor had he sent any word that he would be visiting. If asked, he could not tell them what had brought him to Rivendell. He had intended to visit the forests of Ithilien, where his son now resided, helping to rebuild Gondor, but once he emerged from Eryn Lasgalen – so fondly named after the shadow was lifted from 'Mirkwood' – he had felt a tug in the direction of Imladris. Vowing to visit Legolas once his business in Imladris was done, he had turned away from the path to Gondor, and instead crossed the Anduin and passed through Lothlórien.

It had felt strange, riding through the nearly empty forest, still as beautiful as ever but silent now that many of the Elves had sailed, their voices never to be heard amongst the trees again. It had filled him and his escorts with a deep sadness that could not be lifted with song, and so they had pressed on as fast as possible until at last Lórien was behind them. They ended up nearly backtracking their way to the north, until at last they had crossed the Misty Mountains and were so very close to Rivendell.

His escorts had not understood his need to visit Rivendell, but years of experience and a sense of respect had long ago taught them not to discuss it with him, and they had followed in almost silence as he approached the once-warm Elven realm. There was little left of Elrond's line here – Arwen was in Gondor, with Aragorn, and Elladan and Elrohir were travelling in the north with all that was left of the Dúnedain, as always. Glorfindel remained behind to watch over the House after Elrond had sailed, but even the lively Balrog Slayer had lost the spark in his eyes and seemed almost empty as he had welcomed them to Imladris.

They had only been here for no more than two hours, and finally he had torn himself away from Erestor and Glorfindel, intending to search for the one who had unknowingly called him here. He recognised a handful of Galadhrim amongst those remaining in Rivendell, and he recalled hearing about the Elves of Lórien departing their forest, no longer comfortable there since their Lady, Galadriel, had left the shores of Middle-earth. A part of him hoped to see Rúmil or Orophin amongst them, as he had had dealings with them in the past and doubted that anything would take the life out of their souls, but he knew it was useless. No doubt they would have sailed, alongside their brother, Haldir, with the other Galadhrim wishing to join their Lady. So he turned away from the faces of those passing him by, and focused instead of following the tug on his mind and in his heart, allowing it to lead him to the one calling to him.

He stopped in front of a door slightly ajar, and he felt the tug grow a little stronger, implying that whoever was in the room beyond was the one whom he sought. Curious, he stepped up to the door and gently pushed it further open – it moved without sound, and his Elven eyes quickly adjusted to the difference in light, and found the figure sat upon the edge of a large, empty bed. Even though the Elf had his back to him, Thranduil would have recognised him anywhere, and he sighed softly. Of course. How could he not have worked it out before?

"Celeborn…?" He murmured softly, hoping not to startle the older Elf. Celeborn barely made a move, but Thranduil knew he had been heard. Quietly, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him with a soft click, standing against it a moment, not wishing to overstep his boundary.

"What brings you to Imladris, King Thranduil?" Celeborn's voice was unchanged to the untrained ear, but Thranduil sensed the grief laced through it. He mentally kicked himself for not guessing it sooner – of _course_ it would be Celeborn! The Lord had moved to Imladris with what remained of his people, no longer wishing to remain in Lórien after Galadriel's departure. The forest held too many memories of her, and it pained him to be there. Thranduil understood how that felt. He understood the pain and the grief that memories could bring – only he hadn't been able to run from them. He'd had to remain in Mirkwood, not only for the sake of his realm and his people, but for the sake of his son, too. He would not have abandoned Legolas, no matter how intense his grief became.

"It is difficult to explain." He answered carefully. "See, I had not intended to visit, but… a dear friend of mine is hurting, and I wish to do all that I can to ease his pain." Celeborn turned to him now, his dark blue eyes filled with such grief and pain that Thranduil automatically moved forward, sitting beside him on the bed, one hand resting on his arm.

"You… you are here for me?" He had never heard the Elven Lord sound so vulnerable in all the time he had known him. He offered him a soft smile, his other hand gently placed on the older Elf's back.

"I heard you calling to me all the way in Eryn Lasgalen, _mellonín_." He told him, still smiling. "Though I am sure you were unaware that you were doing so." Celeborn glanced down at the hand that rested upon his arm, at the long slender fingers gently grasping his sleeve, and the ghost of a smile crossed his face for a split second.

"King's Intuition." He murmured softly, meeting Thranduil's eyes once more. "You always did know when someone needed you, Thranduil." He moved one of his own hands, covering Thranduil's. "_Hannon le_."

"Hush, hush." Thranduil shook his head, rich golden locks spilling over his shoulder to hang gracefully around his face. "Do not thank me for coming to the aid of an old friend. You are only permitted to thank me when I have achieved what I have come here for."

"And what is that…?" Celeborn's eyes followed the golden strands, as if distracted by their bright colour in the dim room.

"You shall know it when it happens, my friend." He angled his head as he smiled again, and Celeborn envied the bright spark of life in his royal blue eyes. He had lost his own, he knew all too well, and he longed to have it back, but such a thing was not so easily obtained. His love, his only love, was gone from this world, and he longed to follow her, but he could not. Not just yet. He had far too many things to do before he left Middle-earth in the hands of Men, and it killed him to be apart from his people and his wife.

Staring at Thranduil, Celeborn realised he must not be the only one hurting in such a way. Many of Thranduil's people had sailed already, and those that hadn't sailed or died fighting off Sauron's forces had most likely moved to the forests of Ithilien, to reside with Legolas. The King had not only lost most of his realm, but also his only son and heir – for Legolas had undoubtedly set up a permanent residence in Ithilien, close to his good friend, Aragorn, to be readily available should the King of Gondor need him. Plus, he remembered, the King of Mirkwood had long ago lost his wife to Valinor. He had gone many more years without his love than _he_ had – so how could he sit here feeling sorry for himself when his old friend had been in pain for many years more?

He had not asked Thranduil to come to Imladris. He had come of his own accord, to help him through this grief. He had come because his friend was in pain, and he understood that pain better than anyone else. He found himself smiling just a little as he realised just how great a friend the King of Mirkwood – no, Eryn Lasgalen, he corrected himself – really was. Keeping the smile on his face for Thranduil to see, he lifted his eyes to meet those of the King.

"Well, I shall thank you then, Thranduil. For I have no doubt that you will achieve what you came here for."

-x-

Days passed, and the residents of Imladris had already noted a change in the former Lord of Lórien since Thranduil's arrival. For weeks, Celeborn had only emerged from his chamber for meals and for the few councils they still held, choosing instead to hide away on his own, alone with his grief. Now, however, he wandered the halls and the courtyards, even indulging the other Elves in conversation now and then. Thranduil was never far from his side, and whenever Celeborn had clearly had enough, he would gently lead him away for peace and quiet. The other Elves often wondered what the two Elf Lords spoke of when they were together, but if any of them wished to attempt to eavesdrop, they often found that they could not find either of them despite their greatest attempts to follow them.

Celeborn was incredibly grateful for Thranduil's presence in Imladris. He had come to rely on it on occasion – for example, when the questions and appeals for advice became a little too much to handle, he had come to rely on Thranduil to step in and take over, excusing him from the council if needed. He had also come to rely on Thranduil's 'King's Intuition', knowing that if the nights were particularly bad, Thranduil would sense his pain and come to him, no matter what the hour. He often felt guilty despite how grateful he was for it, especially on the rare occasion that Thranduil came to his chamber at night, clothes rumpled and hair out of place. Still, no matter what he said, Thranduil refused to return to his rest until he was certain Celeborn no longer needed him.

He was feeling guilty now, as he sat up in his bed, watching the stars out of the window as Thranduil sang softly from his position in a chair beside the bed, also watching the stars. He had attempted to rest, but the moment he relaxed his mind it became flooded with memories of Galadriel, and his heart could not take it. Before he could reign in his grief in an attempt to mask it from those who could sense it, Thranduil had knocked upon his door. The King had clearly been roused from his own rest, judging from the state of his tunic and his un-braided hair, but he had stopped any protests from Celeborn before he even had chance to make them.

"Thranduil…" He murmured, turning away from the stars to glance at his friend. The singing ceased as the Elvenking focused upon him, and Celeborn found that he missed the soothing tones of his voice. "Why do you do this?" He knew he would have to give the question further context when Thranduil simply angled his head in confusion. "Why do you come to me, at any hour of night or day, regardless of your own needs?"

"What an absurd question you ask, my friend." Thranduil smiled, amused. "You know why."

"Yes, I know that you wish to help me through my grief, and to ease my pain if only a little. I am aware that you merely wish to do all you can for me." He hesitated, unsure about asking what he wanted to ask, for fear of what answer he might get in return. "But _why_?"

"I am not entirely sure what you are asking me, Celeborn." Thranduil shifted in the chair, leaning forward a little. Several strands of golden hair fell into his eyes and he clicked his tongue in annoyance as he pushed them back once more.

"Why do you want to help me? You know that I will sail eventually, and that in doing so my problems will be solved. So why are you doing so much for me? Why… why do you care so much?" Thranduil sat back again as he considered the questions posed to him, crossing one leg over the other in a delicately graceful movement that Celeborn doubted he would be able to pull off himself, without looking like a fool.

"Well… because I care deeply for you, Celeborn." Thranduil replied after a moment, sounding casual and relaxed. "You are a good friend of mine, and I would like to think you would do the same for me." He paused, averting his eyes a little. "I want to help you because I detest it when you are unhappy. You have a wonderful smile, Celeborn, and I long to see it on your face for more than a few seconds." Celeborn stared at him a moment, surprised to have heard those words from his lips. Without speaking, he peeled back the sheets covering him, and moved to the edge of his bed in order to face Thranduil more directly. With hands that shook ever so slightly, he reached out and took Thranduil's hands in his own, bringing them to his lips and kissing them in turn. It was a gesture seen often amongst Elves, but for Celeborn it meant more than it would for another.

"_Hannon le, mellonín_." He whispered softly, lifting his eyes to meet Thranduil's. The Elvenking opened his mouth, no doubt to argue the thanks, but Celeborn silenced him with one simple act – he smiled. Not one of his brief smiles that were not really smiles but more of a slight quirk of the lips barely held for more than a second or two, but a proper smile – one that reached his eyes. Seeing it, Thranduil mirrored the smile, and clasped Celeborn's hands tightly within his own.

"You are most welcome, _mellonín_." Though Celeborn was most likely unaware of it, Thranduil could see some of that old spark of life in his dark eyes, and it pleased him more than anything. Celeborn was recovering. He would be okay, eventually. He rose, intending to return to his own guest chamber now that Celeborn's need for him was gone, but before he managed two steps, a hand closed around his wrist, preventing him from moving further away. Surprised, he turned back to face Celeborn.

"Do not go." His voice was barely more than a whisper, his eyes hopeful as he gazed up at him. "Stay, please." Thranduil couldn't help but gaze back in confusion. Why did Celeborn want him to stay? Surely he did not need him anymore that night? The usual tug on his mind and his heart was gone, so why was he asking him to remain? "I… I do not want to be alone. Not tonight. Will you not stay…?"

"Oh, Celeborn…" He sighed softly, wanting that longing look in his eyes to disappear. How could he refuse him now? "As if I could walk away from you like this. I will stay." Celeborn seemed to exhale in relief, and he released Thranduil's wrist from his grasp, lying back down in the bed. Thranduil moved back to the chair, eyeing it for a moment in disdain. It was comfortable enough to sit in, yes, but he had intended to catch up on some rest and the idea of resting in the chair was not appealing to him at all.

"Thranduil… there is space… beside me." He turned at Celeborn's voice, and found the Lord watching him. He patted the empty space next to him in the large bed, and Thranduil felt his ears burn a little as he realised what Celeborn was suggesting. It was nothing unusual of course – Elves had no problem with sharing sleeping quarters with each other, but even so… the last time Thranduil had shared a bed with someone other than his wife or young son had been in his own youth, tucked firmly between his parents.

"Ah, Celeborn, I… I do not think-,"

"Is there something wrong with my suggestion?" Celeborn sat up a little, resting on one arm as he frowned a little, not understanding what Thranduil's problem was. Not wishing to go into any detail, Thranduil quickly shook his head.

"No, nothing at all. I am just not used to… this." He gestured as he spoke, hoping Celeborn would simply leave it at that. The Elf Lord watched him closely as he rather stiffly climbed into the bed beside him, and he forced himself to relax. There was no problem with sharing a bed with another male, especially not an old friend who needed him. Yet, why did it feel so wrong…?

"You are rather tense, my friend." Celeborn murmured, settling down again. "You need to relax, or you will stress yourself out further."

"Apologies." He muttered in return, willing his body to relax. Celeborn shifted closer to him, and gently placed a hand on Thranduil's cheek, turning his head so that he may look upon him. Thranduil tensed under his touch, and Celeborn simply smiled at him.

"I think I understand now, Thranduil." He moved even closer, so close that he could feel the warmth of Thranduil's body heat against his own. "I understand completely." Before Thranduil could protest, or argue, or even question him, he leant down and softly brushed his lips over the Elvenking's. He felt Thranduil tense even further for a moment – but then he relaxed, and Celeborn realised his kiss was being returned. It did not last long, for they both pulled away in surprise after a moment or two, but their gazes remained locked and their faces remained close. "Oh, yes. I definitely understand."

"Then enlighten me, for I am afraid I do not…" Thranduil whispered, and Celeborn couldn't help but smile down at him. He looked so lost and confused, resembling an Elfling more than ever before in his long life.

"It is but a shadow of the love we feel for our lost wives, but it is enough for companionship. I did need you, yes, you were right about that, but… perhaps your King's Intuition does not reach your own needs, for I believe you have needed me in return for many, many years." He ran a hand through Thranduil's beautiful golden hair, his smile turning rather fond and loving as he gazed at him. "You are lost, like myself. It is only right that we have, in our turn, found each other. Now… now we can be happy. Complete. At home." It took a moment for Thranduil to react, but when he did it was exactly as Celeborn had hoped. A smile the exact mirror of the one on his own face appeared on Thranduil's, and he lifted a hand to thread it in the silvery-blonde hair spilling over his shoulder.

"I understand now, Celeborn." He murmured softly, his eyes locked with Celeborn's. "Yes… yes, I understand." If Celeborn had wanted to respond, he was silenced by another kiss from the Elvenking.

Not that he was complaining, of course.

_Fin._


End file.
